Father of the Year
by Fenrir's Daughter
Summary: Proud papa Jack Wheeler is finally getting the hang of fatherhood after more than a year, but his rambunctious little boy is always finding trouble. Children are so complicated! Fluffy oneshot.


A/N: Okely Dokely! I've had ADHD the past few weeks like you would NOT believe! I start writing one thing, then I get distracted by a plot bunny and must chase it across the lawn like a starving doberman. Right now, I'm tweaking the last chapter of Learning Experience, proofreading the next chapter of Gaining Faith, reworking my Alice Cooper story for a repost, two thirds of the way through a Spinner-centric oneshot title Spinner's Day Out that will showcase my own expanded Handler's Corners, jotting down notes for a crime/romance sequel to Spinner's Day Out, STILL bouncing around characterization for Vert's mom so I can eventually make a story where she has communed with Ancient Ones and can't control her psychic powers involving both Cthulhu AND the Slender Man (LOOK IT UP OR ASK IN A REVIEW I WILL GLADLY EXPLAIN), and writing a oneshot crossover with a canceled sitcom called Titus to give Vert white-trash relatives. Too. Much. Chocolate. Brain go squee.

Right, so this takes place when Vert is one year old, therefore he will be called Joey since his real name was Josef with an F in AcceleRacers and World Race. However, I've decided that since BF5 is an alternate timeline from that series, I will go with the more conventional spelling of Joseph wif a PH. Also, his middle name is Kelly so we can laugh at him. That's a real episode of SNL mentioned, btw. Tom Hanks really did host the 4/17/1990 episode with musical guest Aerosmith. Kindly read and review!

Father of the Year rated K+ Family/Humor

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><p>(February 24th, 1990, 12:47 A.M. Central Mountain Time)<p>

Jack Wheeler awoke to the sound of a baby crying, but he was not alarmed. This was not the "Something's wrong! I'm scared!" cry, but rather the annoyed "Get your lazy ass up and feed me!" crying. After slightly more than a year since his son's birth, he had come to recognize the difference. It was time for the nightly scheduled feeding and changing of his toddler, little Joey. There were times—times like this particular night—when he would be worn down from a tough day at the garage and try to wriggle his way out of it, but Jack knew it would be an unkind thing to do. After all, Janet was laid up with a nasty cold. It was his turn to care for the little boy.

Joey stood leaning against the crib bars in his footie pajamas, eying his father expectantly. Jack changed the toddler's diaper, almost on autopilot as he sleepily washed his hands and carried his son down the stairs. Little Joey grumbled impatiently as the bottle warmed in the microwave. After what seemed like too long to the hungry child, father and son got comfortable on the couch, snuggling up to watch the previous week's episode of Saturday Night Live rerun now that the new episode was over.

"With musical guest, Aerosmith!" the announcer enthusiastically cried. "Here's your host…Tom Hanks!"

Jack snickered through the sketch comedy, cuddling and comforting his young son. From time to time, the little boy would pick up on his father's amusement and smile or laugh, the happiness around him infectious as his mother's cold. But once he had finished his milk the boy whimpered, periodically rubbing his sore cheek. Jack's laugh at the latest Bob Dole impressions turned into a startled yelp as sharp little teeth sank into his arm.

"Yiii! Hey, leggo!" he yelled, trying to pry the child away, but little Joey continued gnawing, happy as a clam. "Stop it! That's bad, Joey, no biting! Bad!"

Scolded, the toddler let go, whimpering. His eyes began to water, his lower lip shaking.

"WAAAHH!"

"No, hey, shhh…" Jack rubbed the boy's back, mentally chiding himself for losing his temper and trying to soothe the child. Eventually, after locating his teething ring, all was well. Little Joey soon calmed, falling asleep in his father's arms.

But Jack was no fool when it came to children, despite what many people thought. He knew the second he moved that kid would raise hell. No, Jack would stay right there to be sure his son would not stir, at least for a little while.

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><p>Jack awoke to absolute silence and a chill in the air. He looked around, yawning, stretching and rubbing his eyes. Janet must have come and put Joey to bed, not wanting to wake her husband. He felt guilty, knowing his poor, ill wife had gotten out of bed when it was his turn to feed their son, but he vowed to make it up to her. But right about then, getting back to Janet and a warm bed sounded pretty good.<p>

Abruptly the young father froze, shivering at a sudden draft. His eyes went wide as he glanced towards the source of the annoyance and broke into a terrible panic.

The front door was wide open.

"Joey?" he hissed in as soothing a tone he could manage. "Joey, kiddo, where are you hiding? This isn't funny!" Jack looked frantically about the house but the child was not in his crib and Janet was still fast asleep.

In his muddled, groggy state, Jack thought waking Janet was a horrible idea. She would get angry that he had lost the baby and scream and carry on about how her father was right, Jack was a loser and so on and so forth and it would get them nowhere. All he had to do was find the child before she woke up and he would not get in trouble. He was only a year old and barely walking; he could not have wandered far. It was unlikely the child was kidnapped, as they were merely simple working-class folk and Jack would have sensed a stranger taking the child from his arms. But just in case…he grabbed the aluminum bat they kept by the door.

It was still pitch black outside, the dead of night. The Wheeler house was a mile from the busier part of town, the last house before the big old Victorian on Blue Jay Way in the outskirts. There had been a suburb in that area at the turn of the century, Handler Hollow, but only a few standing structures had survived the great fire of 1949. The home that Jack, Janet, and now their son Joseph shared was a modest two story built during the Second World War, and stood sentinel out on Hollow Road. It was practically on the other side of town from the garage where Jack worked and it needed some repairs, but it was theirs, and one thing it did not lack was love…or roadrunners. Fucking annoying little birds; those roadrunners were always honking obnoxiously at all hours of the night and attracting coyotes. In fact, Jack almost tripped over one of the offending birds on his way down the front walk.

Except for the accursed roadrunners, the front yard was apparently empty. Jack was ready to lose his mind, frantic with the desperate fear of losing his child, but suddenly all hope came rushing back to him. A beautiful sound met his ears: the happy burbling of a small child.

"Joey?" he called hysterically. "Hang on, kiddo, Daddy's coming!"

"Doggie!" the child cooed, giggling.

Jack's blood ran cold as he hoped to God it was only a Chihuahua.

Some thought it strange that Jack Wheeler did not like dogs, for he certainly was not a cat person, but anyone who knew the mechanic understood why. You see, for some reason no one had ever been able to explain, Jack was delicious to canines. Between the ages of seven and fourteen, young Jack had been bitten by no fewer than twenty different dogs. He went almost a year after that without an attack, and Jack thought his plight was finally over. Then, at the age of fifteen, he was stalked and mauled by a wolf that had escaped from the Las Vegas Zoo. In the ensuing years he never once got within fifty yards of a dog if he could help it, but the fear and mistrust was still there. Still, he steadied himself; if there was a strange dog in his yard, Jack knew he had to forget about his own growing terror and get his son out of there.

Jack turned the corner and squeaked in a very unmanly way.

Little Joey babbled happily, clapping his tiny hands at his father's appearance, completely unaware of any danger. Indeed, he truthfully was not in any danger at all. Joey had not inherited his father's deliciousness to canines; he would not discover it for at least eighteen years, but Joey would have more trouble in his life with squid. No, Joey was not in any danger from the half dozen or so coyotes that had come to dine on their roadrunner infestation, eating their fill of the pesky birds. The pack had glutted on roadrunner meat, showing no interest in the child beyond curiosity and amusement. But something about Jack was very interesting indeed.

Seven angry coyotes slowly turned to Jack, their noses twitching, and raised their voices in a chorus of brutal snarls. Joey stopped laughing. The little boy's sky blue eyes filled with tears, frightened as he was by the sudden vicious growling. "Daddy?" he whined. Why were the doggies being so mean? This was no fun anymore! "Daddy!"

"It's okay, kiddo," Jack said carefully, raising the bat to defend himself if it became necessary. "Come to Daddy, Joey. It's time to go inside."

The largest coyote barked and snarled, baring its fangs and edging towards the young father. A smaller female actually jumped in front of Joey as if trying to protect him from Jack. With the other five advancing, Jack was unsure if he could fight off all of them and there was the possibility his son would be hurt. He would have to grab the boy and run.

Tossing the bat aside, Jack faked left to draw the alpha's attention. As soon as the beast went one way he dodged and went the other, kicking as he went. The female leapt at Jack but he knocked her down, though at the cost of sustaining a nasty scratch down the inside of his wrist. Ignoring the bleeding and the pain, Jack snatched up the now uncontrollably wailing child and held him tight to his chest. The young father bolted for the front yard, pursued by the pack of insanely angry canines.

'_Just a few more feet!'_ was all he had time to think before the teeth sank into his leg. Jack turned and fell flat on his ass, still clutching the child as he backpedaled away from the advancing animals. This was it. They were done for.

A shot rang out and the animals scattered.

Jack stared lovingly at the most beautiful woman he had ever seen, his dear, sweet, terribly ill Janet. Her nose was red, her eyes were puffy, she was pale and shaky, but he had to admit his wife looked damn fine holding a twelve gauge double-barrel shotgun.

"Fugging coyotes howdlin all da dime," she snuffled, wiping her nose on the sleeve of her bathrobe.

"Sweetie!" Jack cried, chuckling nervously. "Heheh, I know this looks really bad and I can explain—"

"D'you forged to log da door?" she asked dryly, and it took Jack a minute to decipher over their crying child that she had correctly assumed her husband had once again forgotten to lock the front door. Janet rolled her eyes and shook her head at his sheepish smile.

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><p>"So I grab my keys and we go to the hospital, and thank GOD Vert wasn't hurt," Janet said, clapping her son on the back. "I think I would've divorced your dad if anything had happened to my little baby. But everything turned out better than expected!"<p>

Spinner and Sherman chuckled over their slices of cake. They knew it had been years since Vert had been able to celebrate his birthday with either of his parents, but watching he and his father squirm as Mrs. Wheeler told the awkward story was too awesome for words.

Vert shook his head and stared at the sulking Jack Wheeler in disapproval. "You were kind of a fuckup at my age, weren't you?"

"Yeah," he sighed.

Janet laughed. It was so nice to see her boys again. "Happy birthday, Joseph Kelly Wheeler," she said, hugging her son.

The young man frowned. "Mom, don't use my full name like that! Just call me Vert like everyone else."

Janet laughed again at his grumbling.

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><p>AN: Don't rightly remember if I've ever done family cuteness fluffykins before, but I hope I did ok. I kinda just banged this out, so we'll see how you like it. Please review :3


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